Wait, WHAT!
by Saysomething117
Summary: A collection of one-shots, scenes and drabbles satirizing NCIS fanfiction. Featuring all-too-common themes such as: Ziva's perfectly hidden pregnancy, McNicknames, staged death!Caitlin/Ari, and many more. Rated for safety.
1. The Perfectly Hidden Pregnancy

_Disclaimer: NCIS is not mine._

_Author's Note: This is a satire of some of the completely plot-hole ridden, over-done ideas used in NCIS fanfiction. It is in no way intended to offend anyone. It is done entirely with sarcastic humor in mind and a love of all things cliche._

_This is not meant to be a serious work of fiction. At all.  
_

_That said, I am more than open to your suggestions for other scenes, one-shots, and drabbles. I already have plans for a few of the obvious ones, but feel free to review and give your suggestions!_

_Thanks!  


* * *

_

Ziva was working on a background check when she heard the familiar squeal.

"Mama!" came the tiny voice, it's high pitch carrying easily into the bullpen. "Mama!!"

She stood, making her way around the desk just in time to scoop up the flailing child.

"What are you doing here, baby?" Ziva asked the young boy.

The rest of the team sat in shock at their desks.

"Mama?" Tony asked, ashen faced.

"Ziva has a kid?!" McGee asked, jaw dropped in shock.

"I think you better explain," Gibbs said, growling slightly.

Ziva hitched the young child up onto her hip, completely ignoring the fact that he got into a Navy yard building unaccompanied.

"Would you like to introduce yourself?" Ziva asked him. Her face softened so sweetly as she looked at him that anyone with an author's brain like McGee's would have classified it as 'completely out of character.' Mossad assassins didn't look sweetly at young children.

The boy nodded. "My name is Ari Anthony David and I am three years old," he replied in well-articulated English that belied his age.

"Very good, Ari," Ziva replied, kissing her son on his rosy cheeks. When she turned her gaze back to the team, their faces were a myriad of shock and surprise.

"A-Ari?!" McGee gasped. "As in… the terrorist??!!"

Ziva sighed. "You have all referred to him as my half-brother before, but when I name my child after him, he is just a horrible, team-member-murdering terrorist?"

"Well, _yeah_, Ziva!" McGee replied, still gaping. "He _was_!"

"Forget that, McStunned," Tony interjected. "Ari _Anthony?!_"

Ziva set Ari in her desk chair, placing a few blank sheets of paper and bright highlighters in front of him to hold his attention. She stepped across the bullpen to meet Tony.

"He was named after his uncle _and_ his father," she said quietly, watching her partner's face twitch and change before her eyes.

Tony swallowed. "That was only once, Ziva."

Ziva nodded. "Yes."

"Over three years ago…."

"When I first arrived in America," Ziva continued.

"How the hell did I not know about this?!" Gibbs asked angrily, making the young child jumped before his mother smiled, calming him.

"I did not want anyone to know," Ziva replied, whispering. "Between my past as a Mossad assassin and the fact that his father is not Jewish…. It was not safe."

"What about all those times I've been to your apartment?" Tony asked, confused.

"And your dinner parties," McGee added.

Ziva shrugged. "His stayed in his bedroom. He is a very self-sufficient child; I have trained him well."

"Whoa," McGee said, looking at the tiny child. "Even Ziva's _child_ is dangerous."

Ziva turned her gaze back to Tony, who was watching his son.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

Ziva looked away. "You would not have committed to raising a child. You would not have committed to me."

Without warning, Tony's hands came up to cup Ziva's face. "Ziva, I will never be able to look at another woman knowing I've sired your child. I'm prepared to break years of habit to marry you and raise our child. I love you, my little ninja chick, cuddling snuggle-bunny."

"Oh, Tony," Ziva said, tears springing to her eyes. "I love you, too, my darling, caring sweet sunshine-butt."

Tony flipped her around in the classic 1950's romance film style, tipping her back and kissing her senseless.

McGee looked horrified. "Wait 'til Abby gets at look at this…. I'm getting cavities just watching it."

Gibbs stepped forward, his hands cupping his two agent's heads swiftly as they stood.

"Ow!"

"What was that for, boss?!"

"Ignoring rule number 12!"

Ziva and Tony looked to each other in terror.

"Uh…"

Gibbs smirked at their looks. "Relax, you two. Even _I_, the fearsome and great Leroy Jethro Gibbs can't stand in the way of true love!"

Ziva swore she could hear a collective sigh from the entire office--even from those up in MTAC.

"Mama, mama!" Ari's voice chirped happily, pulling at Ziva's pant leg.

She picked him up, settling him in her arms. "What it is, baby?"

"Can Daddy come home with us now?"

The question made Tony's face break out in a ridiculous grin. "Boss, did you hear that?" he asked. "I'm a daddy."

"Yeah, I heard it, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied, smiling at his agent. "Go home and play with your son. You've got three years to catch up on, after all. One night should be plenty."

"Sure thing, boss!"


	2. The Dreaded Author's Note

Author's Note: I hate to do this to you guys, but I just can't finish this story. Or any of them. Ever again. Some people decided to leave me some really, really horrible reviews and I can't go on. How can I possibly keep pursuing my passion if two or three people on the internet with poor grammar and spelling think I'm this horrible?

I know I'm leaving you in the middle of this great story at a total cliff hanger with no resolution, but it's not my fault. You can blame all the jerks out there who had to go and hurt my feelings.

I expected everything single person to love my stories. Everyone who left me raving reviews is completely overshadowed by this one poor one.

I'm sorry guys.

:(


	3. The Prodigal Children

_Author's Note: Guys, srsly. That Author's Note was an actual chapter. I absolutely loathe author's notes like that. Come, ppl! Satire--work with me here! Do I really seem like that insecure of a writer, needing constant validation from my reviewers to keep my inspiration going?_

_...Don't answer that._

_I wasn't going to explain the last one at all, but I absolutely cannot deal with the plethora of shock and encouraging reviews I am receiving (though I do very much appreciate them!). Just know that I would never do that, and if for any reason I had to completely abandon a story it would NOT be because of some silly reviewer with poor grammar. I love the rest of you guys too much. :)_

_So go ahead, yell at me or whatever. But read (and review properly!) this time!_

_Also, this chapter may eventually get a part 2. But I kind of liked where it ended. We'll see.  
_

* * *

Donald 'Ducky' Mallard considered himself a very rational man. He may have been approaching the age when some of his peers were becoming senile, but he still had his wits about him! It reminded him of one time in Hamburg, actually, with an elderly gentleman who seemed to think his trousers were best worn with the seat missing….

But he digressed.

Humming merrily to the familiar tune of 'Auld Land Syne,' he stepped through the automatic doors to autopsy, smiling at his apprentice.

"Good morning, Mr. Palmer," he greeted, removing his long overcoat and folding it neatly over the back of his chair.

"Good morning, doctor," the lanky young man replied.

"Be a good fellow and get our latest visitor laid out on the table, would you?"

"Sure thing."

Ducky picked up the clipboard from his desk, reading over the case report surrounding the death of their latest terrorist of interest. Pulling a pair of latex gloves from the nearest boxes, he worked them onto his hands, stepping closer to the autopsy table.

When he noticed the black body bag still incasing the man, he felt his stomach flip unpleasantly.

"Something the matter, Mr. Palmer?" he asked, unable to place the odd feeling and trying to brush it away.

"Uh…" he young man stammered. "I think so, doctor."

Ducky looked at him in exasperation. "Well what is it, boy??"

He blinked. "I, uh… zombies?"

"Zombies?" Ducky replied, clucking his tongue. "To date, there is no scientific way to reanimate the body. Zombies are a work of Hollywood fiction---"

He cut off, feeling very nostalgic as he stepped up to the body bag to see a familiar pair of blinking eyes, the silenced end of a pistol pointed in his direction.

"Do not speak so soon," came the deep, foreign timbre Ducky'd been so relieved to forget. "You would be amazed at what science can do these days."

"I'm sure you'll pardon my language when I ask how the hell you're back on my table?"

He could hear the zipper finish unzipping before the man climbed out, lowering himself to the floor. "You are still too questioning, doctor." He turned to Jimmy. "Now please, be a good lad and call Agent Gibbs and Ziva down here. We have much to discuss."

Ducky didn't back down from the man's close proximity. "I hope Jethro puts one between your eyes this time. Just like you did to poor Caitlin."

The man's head feel back and left out a loud, throaty laugh. "I have no doubt he would love to put another bullet in me, but perhaps you should refrain from accusing me of murder for the time being."

"I would accuse you of much more, Ari," Ducky replied. He may have considered himself a rational man, but no amount of logical would explain why he was staring at a very much alive Ari Haswari.

"Duck, you got somethin--?"

Jethro cut off as he stepped into autopsy, catching sight of one man he never expected to see again. Ignoring the tunneling sense of confusion, his hand immediately flew to his hip, drawing his SIG and leveling it at the man before him.

Ari's arms calmly went up, his own silenced weapon held loosely in his hand.

"Take it easy, Agent Gibbs," he replied, a smug smirk on his face.

"Ari…?"

Ziva stepped into the room, her eyes wide and face pale at the sight of her brother, the one she'd killed three years ago.

"Hello, Ziva," he replied warmly, smiling at his sister.

"I- How? Wh--?" she stuttered, the first time any of them had seen her at a loss for words.

"How the _hell_ are you alive?!" Gibbs growled, his gun still leaved at Ari.

"It is a long and boring story," Ari replied. "I will explain, of course, but first you should open compartment thirty seven, Doctor Mallard. I believe you will find a very welcome surprise."

Ducky looked to Jethro, whose gaze never moved from Ari. After a moment, he nodded, watching out of his peripheral vision as Ducky moved toward the wall of body coolers. Opening the specified locker, his loud gasp caught the attention of the other three members in the room.

"H-Hi, Ducky," a female voice called, one that was all too familiar to Jethro's ears. "It's f-freezing in here."

"Yes, well, it is a body cooler," Ducky replied, his voice blank with confused awe.

"_Kate_?!" Gibbs growled.

"Hello, Gibbs," the woman replied sheepishly, forcing her shaking limbs to help her out of the cooler.

"Hand me my coat, Mr. Palmer!" Ducky called, waving toward his assistant. As soon as Palmer had retrieved the dark olive green overcoat, Ducky wrapped it around Kate's shoulders, who snuggled deeply into the warmer fabric.

"T-Thanks, Duck," she replied, her teeth slowing their chatter.

"Someone want to start explaining or do I have to put another bullet in this asshole first?" Gibbs asked, glaring at the two in question.

"Uh, it's a long story, Gibbs," Kate said, offering him a wry smile.

"One that involves Trent Kort," Ari pitched in. "I believe you are… friends, no?"

Gibbs' response was a low growl.

"Come now, Agent Gibbs," Ari said, smiling at the man. "Put down your sidearm and we can all have a nice discussion."

Slowly, Gibbs' weapon lowered, but he didn't holster it. "Talk."

Ari chuckled at him, but moved toward the autopsy tables nonetheless. The rest of the group followed him, Kate moving to stand besides Ari and lean against the metal table.

"Are you okay?" Ari asked, putting his arm around Kate and rubbing her shoulders. "Should we ask Doctor Mallard to take a look at you?"

Kate smiled at him and shook her head. "I'm okay. Just cold."

"Get your hand off of her before I remove it."

Ari rolled his eyes.

"It's fine, Gibbs," Kate said, smiling at her former boss. "I know this is all a shock, but Ari's my husband."

The resulting silence deafened those of them in the room.

"I suggest one of you start explaining," Ziva replied coldly, her eyes locked on her half-brother. "Now."

"Ziva," Ari replied, clucking his tongue. "How I have missed that fiery attitude."

"I have not missed you."

He stepped closer, still smirking. "You do not mean that. I am your one and only brother. Of course you missed me."

He watched her features morph from shock to confusion, settling finally on hard, etched fury. None of them could have anticipated the speed with which she pulled her firearm, the crisp sound of a bullet being let loose the first sign of any movement, followed immediately by a startled cry from the supposedly dead Mossad officer.

"Ziva, what the hell?" he asked, gritting his teeth as he held his bicep firmly.

"That is for making me think I killed you," she replied, now very much calm as she holstered her weapon. "I am undecided on whether or not you are actually a traitor."

"Of course he's not!" Kate defended, running to her husband's side. "Ducky, help him!"

Ducky turned to Gibbs, who shrugged.

"I need him alive for answers, Duck."

"He will live," Ziva replied. "If I wanted him dead, he would be."

"Yes, because you killed me so easily last time," Ari said through gritted teeth.

Ziva's eyes flashed at them. "Next time will be in your spleen."

He winced, but kept quiet. Ducky sighed, his caring, grandfatherly side overpowering his sadistic desire to watch the Israeli suffer. Retrieving some gauze, he checked the wound, declaring it a through-and-through before wrapping the arm tightly.

"He will need sutures, but I'd rather he have those done by an actual doctor," Ducky proclaimed. "I am not sure I have the self-restraint not to stitch 'murderous traitor' in his skin."

"He's not a traitor!" Kate replied.

"But you didn't say he wasn't a murderer," Jimmy pointed out.

Kate floundered. "Yeah, well, so is Ziva!"

The younger Israeli 'hmphed' before crossing her arms.

If anyone was going to live up to the title of murderer, it was Gibbs. His coffee cup was squeezed so tightly that the cardboard had crumpled, trailing hot black liquid over his hand and onto the floor.

"I. Want. Answers," he ground out, face so red that Ducky was worried he might give himself aneurysm. "I want them now, or _I_ starting shooting people! Do I need to remind anyone that I am a completely epic-level Marine sniper?!"

Jimmy laughed at the nerdy, out-of-character reference. The rest of them just stared.

"Well?!"

"I, uh… Well, you see, Gibbs…."

Both Kate and Ari spoke up at the same time, prompting them to cut off and stare at each other. After a shared smile, they turned back to Gibbs.

"Your new assistant was not so far off, doctor," Ari said.

"What?" Jimmy asked, eyes wide.

"You suggested I was a zombie," Ari reminded him. "Not quite, but you are not as incorrect as Doctor Mallard would assume."

"Explain."

"Trent Kort is a devious bastard, Gibbs," Kate said. "He volunteered to help get Ari out of Mossad, to keep him safe here in the states. He didn't exactly explain what that entailed."

Gibbs gestured with his hand, spilling more of the coffee onto the floor. "_And?!_ What did it entail?"

"Dying," Ari replied simply.

"Dying."

"That is what I said."

The room fell silent before Gibbs broke.

"_THEN HOW THE HELL ARE YOU HERE?!_"

Ziva looked at her boss in shock. She'd heard him yell, heard about his tenacity when going after Ari. But she'd never seen him this expressive in his anger.

"He said we died, Gibbs," Kate said. "My loving husband just forgot to inform you that we came back."

"But that's not possible!" Ducky exclaimed. "Caitlin, I performed your autopsy myself!"

"Well, like I said… Trent Kort is a devious bastard."

"Your CIA has more secrets that you think," Ari explained. "Area fifty-one, artificial intelligence…. These things are all real, as is the ability to preserve a human body until it can be restarted."

"…You expect me to believe," Gibbs began, "that you died. Trent Kort brought you back to life, _somehow_, and you're now married. Alive. And together."

The couple shared a look.

"That sounds correct," Ari replied.

"There were a lot of injections, medicines with long names," Caitlin added. "Something about suspended animation, lots of bright lights on the other side...."

"Let's assume, just for a moment, that this is true," Ziva said, her voice dangerously level. "Why now? It has been four years."

Ari shrugged. "I heard what happened with you, in Somalia. I wanted to make sure my little sister was okay."

She glared at him. "I am _fine."_

Ari raised an eyebrow. "Ziva, I worked for Hamas. I know how they treat their captives."

Before anyone could even blink, Ziva's weapon was drawn again, her second bullet landing right between Ari's eyes.

"ARI!" Kate cried, while the rest of the room looked to Ziva in shock.

"What?!" she asked defensively, shrugging at Gibbs. She spun on her heels, leaving autopsy as she called over her shoulder, "just call Trent Kort. Apparently he can fix him."


End file.
